


Nerve Damage

by whichstiel



Series: Season 13 Codas [9]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Childhood Memories, Episode Related, Episode: s13e08 The Scorpion and the Frog, M/M, Memories, Parallel Universes, Post-Episode: s13e08 The Scorpion and the Frog, episode coda, spn 13x08
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-01
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2019-02-09 02:09:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12877932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whichstiel/pseuds/whichstiel
Summary: Who else got melancholy thinking about Dean slamming energy drinks so he could stay awake and hunt as a child?(Adopts Chuck-voice: "Drawing is hard")Thanks for reading! I'm onTwitterandTumblr@ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate,Shirtless Sammy.





	Nerve Damage

 

Sam shifted in his seat and took another swig of his beer before setting it on the table. Slowly he pushed the bottle in a circle, spreading water across the worn wood. He sucked in a long, considering breath. “Dude,” he said. “I can't believe you actually used the word 'twinsies'.”

Dean glared at him. “What are you, five?” He tilted the butt of his own bottle towards Sam and took a long drink. “That's what you take from all of that demon heist...crap. Twinsies.” Sam grinned devilishly in answer and Dean rolled his eyes. “Whatever man.” He leaned back to prop one boot on the edge of the bench seat. He took another drink, and then another. Finally, he set the bottle down with a _clink_ and scrubbed one hand across his eyes. “Guess twins have been on my mind lately.”

“Twins,” Sam said. “That some new porn site I should block?”

“Hilarious. No, but that's gonna be the first thing I look up when I--” Dean looked at Sam and rolled his eyes. “Anyway. No.” He picked at the label on the beer bottle with his thumbnail. “Been thinking about doubles, I guess. You remember those books I told you about? The ones in Billie's library?”

 

Sam leaned forward, suddenly every inch the attentive brother. “Yeah. With, like, a hundred different ways you died?”

Dean nodded, still picking at the label. It was starting to come away from the bottle now, shredding at the edges where his nail sliced instead of pulled. “At first I thought they were just...threats? You know Billie and threats...”

“Yeah. Well. She means business.”

“Understatement.” Dean pulled a scrap of label from the bottle and dropped it to the table. “And then I thought they were prophecies. Like...only one of them will come true and my choices will affect which one I get. But then I realize--” Dean reached for Sam's beer and dragged the bottle over so it sat next to his own. The bottles were identical, except for the little corner dredged away from Dean's label. “Those deaths were other me's. My twins, or whatever. It was like that one bizarro universe Balthazar sent us to. But magnified by...I dunno...a couple hundred, at least?”

“So those deaths were all you from a parallel world?”

“Yep. And Billie's just got a wall of stories in her library, each one telling her how I eat it. It made me wonder...”

After several moments of silence Sam asks, “Wonder what?”

“How many of those deaths were from hunting. You know, monsters. And how many were just from living life. Old age.”

 

“You don't think you were a hunter in every universe? Even in worlds like ours with monsters in it?” Sam wore his gentle don't-scare-the-victim frown.

Dean narrowed his eyes. “Naw, man. You kidding? If there're monsters, you know I'll be out there hunting. No question. I just wonder how the other me's tapped out. Is it a slow reflex that gets me? Heading off to a hunt alone? Or taking a piss just two minutes longer so a ghost can sneak up.”

Sam snorted at this. “Ghosts really do have the worst timing, don't they?”

“Fuck, they sure do.” Dean smiled grimly at a memory of a cold piss in an abandoned hospital, and ghostly hands closing in on him just as he'd picked up his gun again. “I mean, hell. How many times have I almost died?”

“Too damn many,” Sam said quietly.

Dean huffed a short laugh at that. “Anyway. Thinkin' about it makes me wonder what could've been. If things were just a little different, what would've happened?”

 

That night Dean dreams about the house again.

He fumbles for the key from his pocket, fits it into the lock and lets himself inside. The wide red door swings open onto a sunny entryway. The rag rug near the door is askew and Dean tugs it in place with his foot as he steps inside, hiding the edge of the devils trap beneath it. He drops the keys on the side table. There are photos there, blurred like memories, but he knows they're happy memories with family.

Dean closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. The air smells like curry and onion and baking bread. The scents curl almost visibly around him like roots winding around a rock. He follows the smells into the kitchen.

And he's here. Cas. His shirt sleeves are rolled up above his elbows, the flannel hem half tucked as though he couldn't be bothered to choose. His loose jeans are worn at the hems where he keeps stepping on them with his bare feet. His heel is pinning one pant leg now as he stands in front of the stove, frowning at the pot resting there.

Dean walks up behind him and slips his arms around Cas. He presses his lips to the skin beneath his ear, just below his dark curls. “Smells good in here,” he murmurs.

“Thank you,” Cas says, quietly proud.

Dean pulls back to peer at the dish simmering on the stove. He notices a stripe of dirt smeared along Cas's throat as he does so and he smiles. Gently, he brushes his thumb along the dirt, then angles his head so he can kiss Cas there as well.

“Dean,” Cas says, sucking in air. “I'm trying to concentrate.”

“Hmmm. I can eat later,” Dean says. He moves one hand to switch off the burner and the other slides down Castiel's firm stomach so he can explore below Cas's waistband.

“You should eat now, while it's still warm.”

“You're warm,” Dean points out helpfully, pressing deliberately against Cas. He can feel Cas's heartbeat as he reacts to Dean's touch and Dean grins at it. He parts his lips and bends them to Cas's neck again. “All the things that had to happen to bring us here. You. Me.”

“Waxing poetic will earn you nothing,” Cas warns, even as his body betrays his words.

“Mmmhmm,” Dean agrees. “Nothing at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> Who else got melancholy thinking about Dean slamming energy drinks so he could stay awake and hunt as a child?
> 
> (Adopts Chuck-voice: "Drawing is hard")
> 
> Thanks for reading! I'm on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/whichstiel) and [Tumblr](http://whichstiel.tumblr.com/) @ whichstiel. You may also like the Supernatural recap and gif blog I co-write/curate, [Shirtless Sammy](https://shirtlesssammy.tumblr.com/).


End file.
